The Fame Monsters
by CosyInTheRocket
Summary: A/U - Rukia is a 15 year-old schoolgirl/actress. Ichigo is an 18 year-old high school drop out actor, who won his first Oscar last year. Now they're starring in a movie together. Not good. IchiRuki, but strong IchiHime references at the beginning
1. Bad Romance

Bad Romance

Summary: Rukia is a 15 year-old schoolgirl/actress. Ichigo is an 18 year-old high school drop out actor, who won his first Oscar last year. Now they're starring in a movie together. Not good.

A/N: This is just an idea I'm messing with, completely out of my usual boundaries, and I'll see what kind of response I get as to whether to carry on.

If I do carry on, the next chap will be up after Christmas as I have mocks over this next month. I'm also not going to upload any more until it's fully written, as a few of my fics ended up completely wrong because of that, and because I know if I upload them as I write, I'll loose interest as I have with my Twilight crossover, so it's my self control really. XD Enjoy

* * *

The drizzle was irritating. It was the really annoying fine kind that soaked you through, ruining your hair and clothes from the first drop, which you'd been expecting since the sky turned the ominous shade of grey signifying its advances. It could have been worse though, she supposed. She could have been on the red carpet at the Hollywood Film Festival, the rain making a perfect paparazzi shot for the most embarrassing photo of her possible.

She hated the papps; they were high in her list of 'worst things about being in movies.' How Britney Spears went out with that guy for months was beyond her. But thankfully, there were none about right now, as she was running to the school gates, conscious the bell had rang ten minutes ago. GCSEs and SATs?? Why would she need them if she was making millions in movies??

She got there with record timing (any timing when she had gotten somewhere without her limo, which had inevitably stopped a few blocks away in traffic, was a record), and slipped through the gates, smiling at the old caretaker, startling him with the brightness of a smile on such a depressing morning.

It got worse though. Form was almost over by the time she had gotten in, meaning a scolding from her sensei and a detention, despite the nervous tittering of her star-stunned classmates and her perfectly valid excuse ("I was tired from all the work yesterday! Justin Timberlake's videos aren't just standing still swaying like Leona Lewis' are you know-"). All in all, by the time lunch had rolled around and she had opened up her super-low-calorie bento at the table with her best friends, her day could have been described as

"Oh my God, today has been _shit_!"

"Tell me about it," Matsumoto answered, drinking pure orange juice from a carton. "My home tech teacher told me that that my essay on whether or not Angelina Jolie should have done peanut dipping sauce with her spring rolls rather than orange at her birthday party last year was 'irrelevant, inappropriately comical and depressing for my generation'. What the hell?"

"Well Matsumoto, she _did_ ask us to write what our perfect 10 course banquet would be if some royal guy wanted to come to our house..." Momo doubted.

"Hey, if Prince William liked that fry-up I made up the morning after _that night, _then his dad can have whatever I give him-"

"Oh come on Matusmoto, we all know you didn't really sleep with him..."

"Did too!"

"Did not!"

Rukia Kuchiki groaned. The banter was usual for her two best friends, though had become more and more A-List related as they became better friends, and were invited to more parties. Over time, they'd become more and more appreciated by the celebrity culture she had invited them into, and now their pictures frequently appeared in glossies, their names in bold font, with the small caption below firmly set to 'Party-Girl' for the time being, with them usually clad in some perfect dress Rukia had insisted on buying them for the event.

Despite her friends occasionally disagreements, their lives were, all in all, perfect. But inevitably not for long.

The rest of the afternoon ran smoothly. Biology was basically passing notes, and P.E. was currently dance, so they were able to ace it with their annoying, enviable athleticism, which some girls claimed must be magic as it was a wonder Matsumoto could stand up, the size of her-. Even the sun came out.

Eventually the final bell rang, and Rukia ran to the safety and comfort of her ever-present limo, with her bodyguard handing her her usual Starbucks, the driver chuckling to some new fact about the latest wannabe-celeb, her P.A. serenely telling her what they were going to do and where they were going now in dulcet tones that her employer had sent her on a course to learn how to perfect...

"Wait, what?" She hadn't been listening.

"I said, your brother has arranged for us to go and meet the producer of a new movie in one hour. He's actually a friend of mine, so I'll just advise you to wear jeans." Nanao nodded wisely.

Rukia's head snapped to the headrest, beautifully cared for locks glistening. She covered her mouth with a perfectly manicured hand to hide her yawn.

"What's the plot, how much does it pay, and what is its overall budget?"

She usually used these questions to decide whether or not to actually take the meeting with the producer seriously, though the analysis was usually not need, as her brother was very capable of setting her up with the best projects. Byakuya Kuchiki, 5 time Oscar and goodness-knows-how-many-Academy-Awards, was now retired with his wife, Rukia's sister Hisana, and Hisana's currently unborn baby, and now covered Rukia's work in the film industry, guiding and advising, the perfect manager. If only he wasn't so grouchy.

But this time, it was different. "Ah Rukia," Nanao answered. "It's not _about _the movie, but who's _in_ it!"

Her head shot up so fast she cricked her neck, but didn't pay any notice. "Johnny Depp?"

"No."

"Brad Pitt?"

"...No."

"Keanu Reeves?" Her face was hopeful.

Nanao sighed deeply. _Such a materialistic girl, _she thought, _brat._

"No. It's Ichigo Kurosaki!"

Rukia leaned back, deeply unimpressed. "What, that kid who was in the samurai movie last year? Why would I be excited about being in a film with that nobody-strawberry?"

Nanao coughed. "He won an Oscar last year, Rukia."

She was still unmoved. "The only person who can't win Oscars is Kate Winslet. And even she won one a couple years ago."

"You've yet to win one yet either."

"Hello? I aim for MTV Movie Awards, not the Oscars. I'll worry about those when I turn thirty."

Nanao's face wore the signs of tiredness, and deep, deep stress. "Well, your brother wants you there." She never said no to her brother.

Rukia reluctantly gave up. "Fine. I'll see you later." The sleek elongated car pulled up in front of their epic mansion, and it had barely stopped before she opened the door and jumped out, strutting across the granite flooring towards the front door.

"Remember to wear jeans!"

She didn't turn, but waved. "Sure, whatever."

Maids took her coat and schoolbag, helping her out of unfashionable lace ups. Hips waving in the seductive manner that had been practised since she was five and saw Tyra Banks runway-walking down her own hallway, she made her way to her rooms in the western wing of the estate, the part which stayed darker in the mornings than the other side. She wandered through her hotel-esque living room and into her bathroom, studying herself in the mirror.

Rukia Kuchiki, for some obscure reason which was impossible to find, had been born perfect. Her mother had died the same day her presence had deemed to grace the Earth – 2 weeks late. However, she honoured her mother daily by the small shrine, and her eyes. While her sister's were a beautiful chocolate brown (that of her father's, who had died of a broken heart a few months after his beloved wife had passed on), hers were a rather precious violet, the likes of which no one had been able to match since. Rukia's skin, though forever porcelain white unless she spray-tanned, was completely unblemished, a couple moles placed around her body, but nothing that would be seen if strapless, short dresses came on the catwalk. There were no laughter lines, her nose was a perfect shape for her face, and, because she had never really worked a full day in her life, the skin under her eyes did not even have a natural shadow. Her hair was a natural black which never had roots, if she decided to eat a foot-long meatball marinara from Subway every meal for a week she would still be 6 ½ stone...

Her only insecurity (more like the only thing you might be able to find wrong about her) was that she was 4"10 at the age of 15. Despite this, her legs still made up a good 2/3 of her body, though she was slightly depressed for a few weeks when she realised she wouldn't be following Kate Moss down a runway anytime soon.

Instead, she had turned to her next love, acting. Or "being paid to be a drama queen" as her sister affectionately put it. And just like her physical perfectness, Rukia seemed attuned to being the perfect actress, portraying emotions better than if she'd actually been experiencing them.

After her careful check of her face, she decided she looked more professional with her hair up, and tied it up in a bun, with a self-proclaimed, Blair Waldorf style Miu Miu headband. Her new Dolce and Gabbana grey pleated-at-the-bottom silk skirt went perfectly with her vintage cashmere shawl, which wrapped around her torso to make a shirt of sorts. Louboutins were always perfect. So were Tiffany diamond stud earrings.

Many girls at school had said that it was completely unfair that as well as being so beautiful, she was so rich to help it as well. Originally, until she was about 2, her sister and Rukia had lived in a flat in a middle-class area of Tokyo, living off their inheritance, until Rukia's first job, an Armani Children's advert, setting off her career much the same way as Sarah Michelle Gellar. Also there, filming the new Armani Men's advert was Byakuya. Him and Hisana locked eyes, and the rest, as they say, was history. Rukia had a maid and a nanny to herself just six months later, as well as a loving sister and new brother.

Byakuya's family had been unhappy at first. Theirs was an old, ancestral family, going back hundreds of generations, and their reaction to his announcement was along the lines of, "What, a _nobody?_" Byakuya had wanted to prove them wrong, but his new wife had not wanted to thrust her new, perfect life into the limelight, so Byakuya had turned to the obvious talent that had lead to the meeting of his new love. And so Rukia Kuchiki had become the greatest project that anyone had ever imagined, netting in around $15 million before she was five with the help of her new older brother, her 'fame maker'.

After a spritz of perfume, a unnecessary nail touch-up, and more checking her image in the mirror, Rukia had managed to be 15 minutes late before she'd even stepped out of the door. Re-entering the limo, her baby pink shawl had almost snagged, but the new doorman stopped her before it ripped, and winked at her as he helped her in. She smiled wickedly, and after the door closed, made a mental note to find out more about him... and to push him into the water fountain. Yummy...

Barely any time had passed before the limo pulled to a stop, she pushed on her Valentino sunglasses, and stepped out into a sea of photographers, hauled unladylike through the vast numbers to the double steel doors, opening for her and closing behind her with a bang that totally didn't need to be there. The interior of her new surroundings was totally modern, black marble everywhere, even a small model water feature in the centre, surrounded by grass. Almost too modern. It was not in her classic taste.

"Miss Kuchiki!"

She turned to see a flamboyantly dressed man, long dark hair tied up in a ponytail. "I'm Shunsui Kyoraku, but you can call me Shunsui if you'd like." His charming smile didn't get through Rukia's defences.

She answered coldly, "Thank you, Mr Kyoraku."

He did not seem disgruntled however. "Nanao! Good to see you! Why, you look better than you did this morning when you woke up!"

Nanao blushed. "Shut up!" she hissed, shoving him.

He laughed. "Ladies, may I introduce you to the director; this is Kisuke Urahara."

He nodded to Rukia's P.A. "Good to see you Nanao", and turned to Rukia, took off his hat respectfully, and bowed. "Kuchiki-Sama."

She ripped the hat from his hands, and shoved it back on his head. "Could we have hurry up, please? I have a movie premiere in three hours. And I have maths homework due tomorrow."

"I'm sure you do." Urahara smiled.

They were led to a small conference room, big enough for twenty, though only the four of them in it. They sat, and Shunsui offered Rukia biscuits. She declined.

"So," He began. "The script. Your brother wasn't too bothered once he found out who else had been cast as a lead-"

"Excuse me?"

For the first time, the feminine man looked put off. "He appears to be trying to get you noticed by a little more than MTV." He smirked slightly.

"Right." Her answer was sharp.

"Well, anyways, here's your script."

She was silent for a few minutes as she read. "Why do the characters have the same names as the actors portraying them?"

"Because the parts were written for you, and the names stuck, I guess."

She nodded and continued.

"So, my brother wants to get me out of teen movies by putting me in a teen movie with a more successful actor in it?"

They didn't have an answer.

"Well whatever. I've read enough. Send a copy to my house and I can go through it at the weekend. You can wait a couple days before we speak again, right? Then we'll have our lawyers go over details, we'll have a more in-depth meeting involving my brother, I'll meet my cast, we'll work out filming times... then we will decide whether this job is suitable ok?" She paused. "Guys, what's this even called?"

"Oh," Shunsui grinned. "Bleach."

"Right, whatever." She grimaced. "We'll be in touch."

Once they were waved off, and in the sanctuary of the limo, Rukia used her perfect teeth, perfect mouth and perfect tongue to pronounce perfectly clearly, "Bastards."

* * *

"So, who will my boy be working with on this project?" Isshin Kurosaki's left eyebrow raised.

"Currently we are discussing terms of agreement with Rukia Kuchiki." Shunsui grinned, finally comfortable in the presence of mortals such as himself.

"What, that stuck up bitch? No way!"

"Son, _sit down_. Anyway, she seems to be a perfectly capable actress, very beautiful, and petite-"

"She's a fucking short-ass." The boy... man sat in the plush chair in the conference room received a kick in the face. "Holy shit, old man!"

"I apologize for my son. On his behalf, as his father, you can send word to Kuchiki that my son, Ichigo Kurosaki, would love to take part in this project!"

"Way to make me sound like a pansy."

(Whack)

"Holy Hell, how are you still able to kick that hard?!"

"Of course, Kurosaki-san! I'm delighted to have you as part of our new project!"

Ichigo grunted from his chair, scowl firmly set in place. "Yeah. Whatever."

Urahara chuckled behind his customary fan. "That's what she said." He and Shunsui left the room, and continued walking down the whitewash hallway.

"That was amazing, Urahara-san! I didn't expect your plan to actually work!" Shunsui's hushed words of awe made it through over the arguing that could be heard from the room they had just left.

"Well, we had to find some way to break into the business." He answered smugly. "It was simple really. You'd have thought they'd check to see if the other actor had fully agreed to be part of it first, but they were just drawn by big names..."

"Who cares?! It worked! By the way, congratulate Yoruichi on her script! Her warped mind appears to be brilliant about writing insane plots."

"Except she worked us into it."

"Small price to pay, my friend."

* * *

"Dad, what the hell?!"

Isshin's eyebrows went up, and he leaned back in his leather chair, safely back in his office at home. "What? I got you your next acting job, like we agreed. I have no idea why you seem to dislike this beautiful woman before you've even met her-"

"Because she's obviously a stuck up snob!"

"Oh, don't be so prejudiced! And sit down; you're wearing out my carpet." Ichigo flopped into the seat in front of his father's plain wood desk.

"You don't even give me a choice."

"Because I knew you'd say no! Besides, you haven't had a job since last year."

Ichigo growled softly, irritancy obvious on his face. "Which I got an Oscar for, so who cares anymore? The debts are paid off; I've done what I needed to to keep us in this house until we die. What more do you want?"

Isshin sighed. "I want you to do something with your life. I want you to be somewhere good when you die; having achieved everything you could. I want your sisters to be showing you off as much as they can when they bring their silly friends home with them from school. I want your mom to look down at you from wherever she is now and be proud. _I _want what _you _want."

Ichigo looked thoughtful for a moment, and then resumed scowling again. "...Fine."

Isshin grinned like a kid with candy, leaned forward and pushed his reading glasses up. "Good. Now go get ready for your date with Orihime! Can't keep a girl like her waiting."

"It's only a movie premiere."

"Pirates of the Caribbean 4 is not just _any _movie premiere. Johnny Depp is there."

* * *

Rukia, Momo and Matsumoto were stood in a line in front of Rukia's wall of mirror. Each girl's face was low, dark and angry.

"What the hell am I gonna do!? It's only one hour away and I look like shit!"

"Don't worry Rangiku, you look beautiful. I look like a mess."

"Trust me Momo, you are perfect. I just look like a sack of potatoes-"

Rukia threw her sequinned box clutch against the wall, shrieked, and tantrumed like a four-year-old, whose parents had taken her through the drive-thru of McDonald's only to turn around and not buy them anything. She screamed and slammed into the bathroom, pulling off jewellery and ripping out hair pins on her way. When she'd locked the door, she slammed her back against it and groaned.

The problem was her dress. Victoria Beckham's dress would have been gorgeous on a girl with curves to fill it out (surprising as the woman herself was a stick), but Rukia didn't have any. So it sucked really.

She heard her friends rifling through the hangars in her dressing room, searching for other dresses, and racked her brains trying to think. She leant her head on her hand, propped up on her knee, turning her gaze to the left, where she saw _it._

She'd completely forgotten about it. And there it was. The dress that had made Rukia applaud Donatella for when she had seen it on the catwalk, and she had promptly paid for one to be sent to the house in her size...

Where it had inevitably been taken by her maid this morning, and put in her bathroom to steam. It was a gold, floor length, and figure hugging dress, silk underneath, with a layer of lace with gems, diamonds and sequins over the top layer. The neck line was a v-neck... to her navel. It was the same at the back. And with her hair freshly pulled out of the curled bun, tousled sexily, even she had to admit – Johnny Depp's jaw would be dropping. Unless Orlando looked incredibly amazing tonight also...

* * *

The suit was tight, and uncomfortably so, but when Ichigo had complained to his father, he had laughed, shoving him out of the door, telling him that he would thank him later.

Orihime's dress also appeared to be uncomfortably tight, but the 18-year old, well endowed girl didn't seem to notice, the way she was all over him, which he would have welcomed if they were at home and she wasn't getting lipstick on his face and his collar-

"Oh shit!"

"Sorry, honey!" except she wasn't sorry at all, as went to re-smear the offending gloss on her lips, as unclassy as they came. "You can barely see it. Besides, don't you want everyone to know that we're still together...?"

"Whatever." He lolled his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes. _I have to finish this woman; _he thought grumpily, _she's a bigger slut than Jordan. (_Note: Katie Price, aka 'Jordan', is a British glamour model, who has had more breast implants than I have fingers, and is mainly seen as a slut. To me, in my Orihime bashing head, this is how I see Orihime.)

The car pulled to a stop, and though the cameras could not see through the windows to them, they were still blinded by numerous flashes. Well, Ichigo was. He wasn't sure how far ahead Orihime could see with her false eyelashes.

* * *

The sleek limo pulled up directly beside the red carpet, amid squeals from Rukia's two friends, who has both already spotted Johnny Depp and Orlando Bloom. Rukia slipped her hand down the side of her seat, reaching for her Lola by Marc Jacobs bottle, and spritzing it liberally over the part of her chest which was exposed. She scrunched her hair to her head one last time, before grabbing her clutch and gracefully stepping out onto the walk of fame.

She and her friends worked their way down through flashes, stopping every few feet to pose, and pout her red lips towards a camera. She met Johnny Depp, smiling graciously; putting on her air of awe, and even – to Matsumoto and Momo's squeals – got a kiss on her cheek from him as he left her to attend to a girlfriend. She was talking to Keira Knightly, in her usual Chanel brilliance, when she spotted something orange...

* * *

She was hugging Johnny Depp. He wouldn't be surprised if his girlfriend was _smothering _him, with the force of which she held him. It was so embarrassing, he'd tried to tactfully get Orihime away from him so he could breathe, but she'd just held him harder.

It would have been funny is the paps hadn't been taking pictures of them while Ichigo looked on, standing with his long-time friend Abarai Renji, who _was _in hysterics.

"Renji, shut up."

"But look at his face, dude!"

He would have found it funny if it hadn't been _his _girlfriend. True he was almost certain he was going to break up with her, but still. He had a reputation.

He finally had enough.

"Orihime..." the 'strawberry' leaned forward, tapping her on her shoulder. "Sweetie," his tone showed how he hated calling her these 'cute couple terms', "honey, maybe it's time to give him some air."

"Oh yeah, of course, sorry..."

The legendary actor accepted her apology, and turned to Ichigo, mouthing 'thank you', before hurrying away back to his girlfriend.

"Poor guy." Renji had come to stand next to Ichigo, whose girlfriend had now wrapped her arms around his waist, and was waving to the cameras in another desperate attempt to gain some attention. "How 'bout us guys go in and get some seats?"

"Sure, whatever." Ichigo turned, and as he began walking to the building, hauling his limpet with him, he turned at the exact, perfectly timed moment to catch violet eyes staring intensely at him, before turning away, to walk with her friends into the theatre.

Oh yes. There was no doubt. _That _flat-chested midget was Kuchiki Rukia. He just hadn't expected her to be so cute. _Oh yeah_, he thought, _this is gonna be fun..._

_

* * *

  
_

Several hours later, an exhausted Rukia, pulled the door to her own limo open by herself, bags in one hand, shoes in other, and stumbled bare-footed across the patio, immediately soaked by the violent rain. The fountain had flooded, and was now soaking her feet, but she didn't care. Her make-up had run, and she couldn't be bothered. The lace on her new dress had snagged on a decorative stone as she had walked past it, but she wasn't conscious enough to give it another thought.

She pushed open the door, annoyed that the staff hadn't waited up (another day she wouldn't have blamed them – she stayed out drinking a lot past 4 in the morning, despite being underage), and dragged herself across the other courtyard to her wing, not even aware she was walking mud onto her meticulous carpet. She finally reached her bed, and closed her eyes.

Even though she'd spent the night flirting and drinking with various people, the last thing she saw before darkness claimed her was a pair of intense amber eyes... which she wouldn't even remember the next morning.

* * *

Ichigo kicked off his shoes, and pushed Orihime against the wall, her legs wrapped around his waist as he kissed her passionately. The amount of alcohol in his system didn't make him drowsy; he was as energetic as ever.

He and his girlfriend discarded the clothing as they made their way to his bedroom, not noticing the debris they left. They eventually got there, too intent on their need to fuck. The night was still young after all... he could break up with Orihime tomorrow.

* * *

Hope you enjoyed. R+R please!! Beth x

5/12/09 00:45


	2. Alejandro

A/N: First day off in ages, so I'm having a bit of a de-stress.

I didn't listen to Alejandro whilst writing this, it was more Britney's B in the Mix version of "Touch of my Hand". Gorgeous as the remix, and the original, definitely check it out if you haven't before.

Hope you all enjoy! Tell me if it's gone dodgy please, or if I've done something stupid which completely contradicts chapter one in anyway. I did check, but I'm not very with it.

* * *

"And... CUT!"

She let out a breath she had been holding for too long, and immediately untied the back of her costume, finally able breathe normally, but still with a strange feeling of illness, like she felt sometimes when she'd been in the limo for too long.

"Okay people, that's a wrap for this scene!"

_Oh, thank God. _She bit her lip in anger as three men rushed over to her to remove the various ropes and latches attaching her to the ceiling. Her first scene was over, and in the interest of saving a couple million yen, instead of having CGI she'd done her first scene completely herself, without a stunt woman. True that she had been moved from the top of 'lamppost' to 'lamppost' slowly (it would be sped up later), but that didn't mean that she didn't feel horrifically travel sick.

It was the first day of the summer holidays, and instead of sleeping off a horrific celebratory hangover this Saturday morning, she was spending it in a dark warehouse, filming her first scene of this crappy movie. She had no idea why they'd even bothered to include this scene with the amount of fuss it had caused; the couple lines she'd said had only talked about feeling 'it'.

And she _was _feeling it. That bottle and a half of Dom Perignon had worn off, true, but she was still feeling the hangover that was whacking on the inside of her skull. She was barely concentrating, but managed to catch a few of the director's words that made her look up instantly.

"- filming his first scene later, but with his consistency in not showing up to anything, I wonder how long it'll take before he's recast..."

"It'll be fine, Urahara! Trust me. When have you ever had reason to doubt me?"

"Well, I did have a dream last night that you were a transvestite cat..."

"That's not not trusting me, that's being psychotic."

"Maybe we should have that written into the script somewhere..."

"Oh God."

* * *

A 5 hour nap and 2 hours in hair and make-up _again _later, Rukia was arriving on her second set of the day.

To be honest, the girl wasn't happy. Here she was, ready and waiting, and his Royal Highness, King Strawberry, still hadn't showed. And it wasn't the first time this had happened either. The worst part was that she actually hadn't properly met the actor yet, something which she – and her brother – found completely unprofessional. Kurosaki was supposed to be here over an hour ago, so that he'd have filmed his first few scenes in time for her to come in to finish the last few off, and they'd been done for the night.

The way things were going, if he turned up now they'd be lucky to be home before 1.

When a scared assistant told her this, she kind of broke a little.

Maybe it was that she had post-exam stress.

Maybe it was because she wasn't going to be able to spend her summer holidays on a beach in the Caribbean like everybody else was going to be doing.

Or maybe it was because her almighty pride had had enough of being stood up and ignored that she felt she had to do something about it.

She'd already made a decision though – she was going to get him back. No, she wasn't going to get him thrown off the movie. That was what he wanted. Obviously what he _didn't _want to do was to film this, which was exactly what the petite superstar was going to make happen. If he wanted to make her life crap, his would be pure, unadulterated torture.

She smirked as she got back into the limousine, slipping her driver a large wad of money to take her to Kurosaki's mansion.

* * *

Kurosaki Ichigo sauntered into his kitchen, his only clothing – thin, baggy sweat pants draped over his well built-hips – revealing more flesh than necessary as he opened his huge black refrigerator, pulling out a can of soda, opening it casually and drinking heavily from it as a knock sounded on his door.

He pulled it away from his lips as his face turned into his regular frown. _That better not be the paps... _If they knew where he lived, he didn't know if he could be bothered moving again. Taking his self-built image into his own hands, he opened the door to be immediately pushed aside, heels sounding on black, sparkling granite floor.

And there she was – Kuchiki Rukia, standing there in all her 54kg, 4'10", Vivienne-Westwood-purple-dress-clad glory, with her arms folded and a rather pissed expression on her face.

He smirked at her. "Welcome, Miss Kuchiki. May I enquire as to what you are doing here?"

"I could be asking you the same question." His smirk grew larger. Thank God that sugary-sweet voice she had on all her interviews wasn't real. He couldn't have handled that.

"I don't have a clue what you mean," he swaggered confidently back into his kitchen, back towards his fridge.

"You. Not being on set. At 5pm." Her violet eyes narrowed.

"Oh, was that today?" He pulled another soda can out of the fridge, and threw it to her. She caught it with ease. He turned his back to her, looking out the window over his garden.

"You know it was."

"That was actually me saying that I don't care." The can hit him on the back of his head with uncanny precision, spraying him with the liquid on impact. His face fell.

"I don't like being made a fool of, Kurosaki. Not everybody has such natural talent that winning an Oscar comes to them naturally."

The smirk reappeared. "What can I say? I'm blessed in every way." He turned just in time to see her face in confusion before it became obvious what he was talking about.

"Kurosaki-kun? Are you coming back to bed?" The unmistakeable shrill of Orihime's voice sounded, and Rukia's face fell back into an annoyed grimace.

"If you have any respect for your fellow actors, you'll be at the studios tomorrow at 5 ready for your scenes." She let herself out with the last image of his face thoughtful as she headed back to the car.

Ichigo thought for a moment. If he didn't do the movie, his Dad and sisters would be upset... but if he did, a lot more people would be happy.

_And I'll get to see her cute-looking ass again..._

* * *

"You know, sometimes I wonder if you do this to yourself on purpose."

A perfect eyebrow arched. "Excuse me?"

"You know, the whole 'make the stupid bastard hate you' thing?"

"Rangiku, I don't have a clue what you're talking about."

The red headed teenager sighed, and set herself upright; she'd been lying upside down on the leather chair, eating half-baked Ben and Jerry's. Saturday nights usually meant partying until dawn, but when Rukia had a project, she stayed in. And when this situation occurred, her two best friends joined her in solidarity, bingeing on calorific-snacks. The previous night had been an exception of course – it was the first day of the holidays. Or for Rukia, the only real night of the holidays she would have.

"It's just..." the curvy woman put her spoon in the tub, and tucked her legs under herself, facing her friend. Despite having a mud mask on, she looked quite serious. "Every time you have a leading hot guy co-star, you chase him off! He always ends up hating you in the end, and you always end up looking like the poor little victim!"

"I do no such thing!"

Rangiku scoffed. Rukia turned to her other friend, who was lying in front of the marble fire place, baking her mud mask. "Momo, you don't think that happens, do you?"

Momo slid off one of the cucumber slices covering her eyes, and stared at Rukia. "Hon, when did you last have a boyfriend?"

"What does that have to do with Rangiku thinking I chase off guys?"

The woman in question sighed again, and stomped to the crystal adorned mirror over the fireplace, pulling her friends hand with her as she went. She placed the smaller girl in front of her, and huffed.

"You. Are. Freaking. Gorgeous. And without a boyfriend. What does that say to you?"

"There are _plenty _of beautiful people without boyfriends!"

"Name one."

"... Cameron Diaz!"

"Isn't she getting back together with Justin?"

"No way! He's still with Jessica Biel, plus I heard he wasn't going to go to Britney's wedding in a couple weeks because he wasn't over her!"

"Cameron does bear a slight resemblance to her..."

"They're both blonde, that's it!"

"GUYS!"

Hinamori Momo was a calm, quiet girl. But there was a spark in her that let rip whenever she thought her two best friends' fame was becoming the central focus in their lives. Unlike Rukia, who'd spent most of her life rich, and Matsumoto, who'd always had a silver spoon in her mouth and Uggs on her feet, Momo was the only 'poor' one, attending their private school on a scholarship by proving herself to have one of the highest IQs the school – possibly the world – had ever seen. So they took her in, tempted by the promise of epic grades to bring up their average. Once there, she had remained the poverty-stricken outcast in the school, sitting on her own at lunch, no friends.

At least, until the superstar Rukia Kuchiki graced the school with her presence. You would have been forgiven for believing Rukia immediately became the most popular girl in school. In fact, to begin with, she was more of an outsider than Momo. And so, that first horrible day Rukia had endured had only been reasonably ok by her new friend. Walking into the cafeteria and having no one to sit with, she'd seen the beautiful Momo sitting on her own, reading a book whilst munching on a spicy beef burrito – that day had been a particularly bad day, so her stress was taken out on carbs – and had sat across from her.

"...You don't mind me sitting here, do you?" It was the first time in her life that Rukia had ever been nervous. And the last, as Momo smiled brightly at her, dropped her fork, held out her hand and introduced herself. Rukia had smiled back, shook it, introduced herself and asked her a question about her book. They'd been practically inseparable ever since.

How Matsumoto had joined their group was a story not referred to often, being a rather embarrassing experience for the girl in question. Originally, Rangiku was the ringleader of the most popular girls, and therefore the girl who, though not actively carrying it out, was the one who made their lives hell. She directed her army of bitches to do her bidding – when she was thirsty; they got in trouble cutting class to go to Starbucks for a chocolate cream frappucino. When she hadn't done her homework, she took it off one of them, and wrote her name at the top. When she was bored, they made the superstar and the poor outsider's lives hell for her entertainment.

The end of Matsumoto's reign as Queen Bee had been signalled when she drunkenly slept with her loudmouth, blonde, second-in-command's boyfriend, her defence being "well, you weren't going to do it anytime soon, and it was such a waste..." The group of about 15 girls then went on to yell about how sick and tired they were of Matsumoto treating them like pieces of shit, and she was then kicked out of the party she was at when she had gotten drunk again and blurted out what she had done.

The next day, before lunchtime Rukia and Momo had heard so many horrible stories about Matsumoto, that despite her treating them apparently in the same manner as her friends, they felt sorry for her. And so, when Momo had spotted Rangiku sitting on her own, she hadn't felt obliged to do anything until she'd noticed a beef burrito on her plate. The rest was history. The three hadn't become ridiculously popular until Rukia stared in a movie with a particularly handsome guy, and her two best friends had done cameos. By then however, it was too late for anyone who wanted to be a hanger-on. Rukia had chosen her friends, and they had chosen her.

Momo had always been the mother in the group, and getting back to the problem at hand, sat her friends down. "Rukia, you _are_ beautiful. And it _is_ strange that you've never really had a boyfriend. But, Matsumoto shouldn't have brought it up, because _she _can't say anything about relationships with boys. So there you have it. You're both messed up. Any questions?"

Looking like two small children who had just been told off, they sank into their seats. Momo sat back and sighed. Moulin Rouge was on, and there'd be hell to pay if she missed any more of her favourite film.

Behind her back, Matsumoto and Rukia stuck their tongues out at her.

* * *

It was about 6 o'clock when Rukia received the call that rendered her speechless. Ichigo Kurosaki had gotten into the studio about 3 hours early, completed his scenes, waited about half an hour for Rukia to show up even though he knew full well she wasn't scheduled to for at least another 2 hours, complained about her unprofessionalism, and was now expecting her to show up at about 6:30.

She wasn't amused.

Grabbing her script, throwing on 7 for all Mankind jeans, Chloe flats and a fuchsia FCUK off the shoulder top instead of the curry-stained Juicy Couture tracksuit she had previously adorned, she scrambled out of the mansion, dived into the limo, and was busy pulling her mess of hair into a French twist when she arrived on set. She was immediately thrown into the costume she'd worn the day before, her hair was salvaged by some of the best people in the business, and her tired, unprofessional-looking face was painted.

She was only 5 minutes 'late'. But she'd never been late for anything in her entire life before this. She glared at her co-star's smug face, before readying herself for the first scene. As a Kuchiki, at least she'd be keeping her dignity.

* * *

After they had finished their scenes – Rukia's favourite part being when she got to draw on Ichigo's face in permanent marker – the tiny woman was in front of the mirror in her dressing room, her robes untied at the front, revealing a corset she wasn't sure her brother would think appropriate but not really caring anyway because she was tired and on her own, hands resting on the marble tops, staring at herself in the epitome of clichés – the bulb-lined mirror. She blinked, and sighed, sinking down into the tall stool positioned behind her. She moved her attention to staring at the rows of make-up and hair products adorning the surface, and felt genuinely sorry for herself.

There were some days that were like this, when all she could do was pop the prescription pill, put on a happy face, and leave her room with it painted on until she got back into bed. It wasn't anyone's fault; it was just her life sometimes. Her friends thought she had an amazing life. She did, but it wasn't amazing for a teenager to have her problems laid out on tabloids for all to see.

She heard a soft knock on the door, and answered for them to enter without thinking. She squeezed her eyes shut, readied herself to turn around and do whatever she needed to do to keep her image up, be it her brother or PA, and found herself face to face with Ichigo Kurosaki. She rubbed her eyes to devoid them of sleep, and sighed again.

"What do you want?"

He smirked the same, annoying smirk. "That's not a nice way to greet someone. Didn't your brother-in-law teach you better?"

"You better have a good reason for being here, Kurosaki," she bit back a yawn.

"You visited my house yesterday, I thought I should return the favour." He stuck his hands in his jean pockets.

"So you don't have a reason?" She stared blankly at the wall, her body language showing her anger.

His smirk dropped, and he looked thoughtful. "Nope."

She paused for just a couple seconds, just long enough to make the man think he'd gotten away with it. Then she picked up a nearby, large vial of Elizabeth Arden perfume, and hurled it at his head, screaming. It smashed against the wall, inches from her target, leaving a stingingly strong scent as it dripped down the beige wallpaper. Her chest heaved, and Ichigo's face was a picture of shock... mixed with just a little bit of respect.

There was silence for a couple minutes as they just stared at each other. Neither noticed the time moving. Rukia retained her anger. Ichigo's face was now uninterested.

She moved first, but only shifted from one foot to the other, glancing to the floor. In this second or two, the taller boy was stood right in front of her, staring right at her again, inhaling deeply, and... _smelling _her?

'_What the fu-'_

"See you tomorrow, Kuchiki."

She nodded slightly, swallowed, and noted the sudden decrease in heat when he had left the room, an exit she hadn't noticed.

Retaining as much dignity as she could, she sat back down and examined herself. It was only then she released her inappropriate underwear had been on show the whole time, and was probably the reason he stayed after his initial annoying her.

"Shit..."

She sighed just once more, found some clothes, sleep walked to her limo, fell asleep, and was carried to her bed by her bodyguard after neither he nor her sister could wake her from her comatose state.

* * *

"So... Is it enough?"

"I'm not sure. I thought we agreed more?"

"That was the full amount. This is only the bargaining chip. You'll get the rest after the plan has been completed, and you have done your part. Deal?"

He chuckled. "Your offer is hard to refuse. Can you guarantee I will have everything at my disposal that I'll need?"

"Guarantee? Nothing can ever be guaranteed. But this plan has been designed around you and your part, so it's almost certain."

"Excellent. I'll be seeing you soon, then... Sir."

The guy behind the desk smiled. "Have fun."

* * *

Ugh, edit document's being a cheese prick. Sorry if the page breakers aren't in, it's not cooperating.

Sorry it's shorter than chappy 1, and it might not make sense in parts, but it will when I explain things as we go. Plus I have writer's block, so it might just be... wrong.

Hope you enjoyed, if not tell me, and I'll redo it. Just for you. Because I love you all. :D

(Btw people, which is better, Nintendo Wii or Sony PS3? I can't choose!)


	3. Monster

Monster

A/N: Yeah, I know, I'm a horrible person.

Inspiration came to me from 423, and consequent chapters (he's sad, and he's failing at covering it up. Also, I don't wanna hear anymore about eels). I also had inspiration from the new 2011 calendar spread. Give that a google, you'll work out which I mean xD

Also, I'm aware that these characters are a little (or a lot) OCC at the moment. I'm trying to build them up to be in character through character progression – I figured if they'd been brought up differently, they'd be different at first as people. If people really don't like this, I could go back and change it, I just thought it was an idea. You're the ones who are reading it, and I accept all constructive criticism and take what you say into account when I'm writing. But I think they're more in character this chap anyways – strange considering it's a depressing chapter. Or maybe not so strange... xD

I also don't think I've gotten my timelines _quite _right, but I've just manipulated them a tad to fit.

(Btw, I think "Miracles" by Norwegian Recycling is an epic song to listen to while reading... My mate disagreed and said Everytime, but what does she know? xD)

Enjoy!

* * *

Orihime Inoue was a, uh... blessed woman. Her blessings had been to her advantage, but not always; only when the poor girl was 10 had her breasts began to grow to the point they had today – resulting in her being the one of most over-developed 12 year old in existence. This was the girl who other girls' parents felt sorry for, graciously thanking God that He had not endowed their own daughters in this way; the girl who the boys' mothers wouldn't let near, convinced that despite her young age, her physical appearance reflected her character. This wasn't true until a few years later, after she had finished high school. Until this time however, the quiet girl had relied on close friends to get her through these years – the bullying stopped when she became best friends with Tatsuki Arisawa, later crowned the 2nd best female under-age fighter in Japan.

In truth, Orihime was actually a little cleverer than she let on to be, which could be seen through her successfully keeping the Oscar-winning actor, Ichigo Kurosaki, to herself this past year or so, but still usually acted a lot below average intelligence, instead relying on her, ah, _assets_, to help her succeed in life, which she'd managed by being a page 3 model, until she bribed the editor for the newspaper she was featured in to get her tickets to a party about a year and a half ago.

And so, the brave, 16 and a half year old, who looked a lot older than she was, got into one of the most select parties of the year, where the object of her infatuation (more correctly, 'obsession', but she'd never seen it that way), Kurosaki Ichigo, had been, having finished filming one of the most successful movies ever just a couple days prior. She'd sauntered her sexy walk over to him, introduced herself, and they got chatting. Her short hemline and quite innovative talking keeping him occupied in two aspects. She'd offered to go and get him a drink. He'd agreed, and she'd turned and began to walk over to the drinks, fetching two, and walking back over. Admittedly it was her fault. She hadn't been paying attention, and later realised that the younger girl had tried to move, but in her clumsiness and wanting to get back to Ichigo, she'd smacked straight into one of the most beautiful people she'd ever seen.

Kuchiki Rukia's cream, Dolce and Gabbana, halter-neck mini dress had a massive red wine stain on it. Inoue Orihime's cream, high street, knock-off-of-Rukia's dress that had taken all of this month's pay check to buy was also covered in it. The younger, shorter (you wouldn't have known it in her stilettos) girl scoffed, told the woman following her to get the spare dress out of the limo, glared once more, and stalked to the ladies' room.

Standing in stunned silence for a couple moments whilst she tried to regain composure, she jumped when an unexpected hand touched her bare back. The man she had been trying so hard to impress steered her to his limousine, and helped the girl whose tears where beginning to descend down her cheeks into the backseat. He'd left the party carrying a bottle of Dom Perignon, and they drank whilst the man's chauffeur steered the car through the McDonald's drive thru. She'd looked so much like his little sister Yuzu that Ichigo had been unable to act as cold as he usually did, and before he could even realise what he'd done, he found himself taking care of her as he would have his sister.

He wouldn't have kissed his sister on the lips as he dropped her off at home, though.

This was the reason why Ichigo held some incredible disdain for Rukia Kuchiki, much the same way as Orihime Inoue did.

But neither could feel the same they usually did for the young girl this particular morning. This morning, when they'd rolled over, and turned on the television to the news, and seen Ichigo's co-star's picture (from a few months ago, in a beautiful, black, backless dress, at some red carpet event, smiling wickedly at the camera), they had been stunned into silence.

"... And this morning the news has emerged that Hisana Kuchiki, wife of Byakuya Kuchiki and older sister of actress Rukia Kuchiki, has suffered an ectopic pregnancy, and passed away through the night. There is currently no comment from the family, but it has been asked by Rukia Kuchiki's manager that the press do not disturb them whilst they grieve. Hisana was due to have her first child just after Christmas. On behalf of this network, I'd like to take a moment to say how sorry we are for their loss.

In other news, soldiers in Afghanistan today..."

It began to rain outside.

* * *

Rukia Kuchiki was sat on her bed, in her pyjamas, watching the rain hammer against one of her bedroom windows. Her eyes were cold, her face was white and devoid of emotion, and she was struggling to breath. She hadn't cried yet... Hisana had always told her never to break down in tears. To give one good tear, and then stop. She couldn't remember the reason Hisana had given her. She wished she could.

Rukia hadn't found a moment yet that she thought would suffice as the moment to shed her one emotion. She wondered if she ever would find a moment she thought was good enough. She also wondered if the rain would ever stop – the pounding on the window felt like a giant pounding on her skull.

She dragged her eyes away from the unending precipitation to her bedside table. A maid had been in earlier and laid a tray with toast and orange juice upon it. She'd told Rukia she needed to eat. She couldn't waste away. And she'd expected to be screamed at in a tantrum.

What she hadn't expected was for the generations younger girl to look at her with freezing eyes, and growl "Get. Out." in a deadly tone.

Rukia continued to look at the tray, and began to consider eating the damn toast. It was her pride that would be hurt, yes, but did she give an honest to God fuck what anybody thought right this second?

Did she give an honest to God fuck about anything right now?

Would Hisana get to eat toast wherever she was right now? Was she happy? Was she sad because she was looking down on the two people she cared about most, where they were sad she wasn't with them? Was she in heaven? Was it really heaven, or was it worse than Earth?

Was she really feeling anything right now, her sister? Or was her entire spirit really just... gone?

Would Hisana ever get to meet her baby?

Would they ever meet again?

Would her sister ever know how much Rukia loved her?

She began to get a prickling feeling behind her eyes, but blinked them back. It wasn't the moment.

Rukia looked back at the rain.

* * *

"...And so, we don't have an exact time for when filming will continue, but we can estimate any time between 6 months and a year. We may also have to entertain the idea of recasting Miss Kuchiki if our situation so requires it. However, there are many other scenes that may be filmed without her character present, including several fighting scenes that will take a few months to be done in any case, so hopefully we won't be too far behind schedule. Thank you very much for your time, ladies and gentlemen."

The conversations began again as Urahara began to move around the conference table, some whispering, others in their regular tones. The lady who was head of costume was talking to the lead make-up artist about Hisana Kuchiki – she had known her quite well, and being a famous designer, had sent many dresses made specifically for her to wear. Her words were etched with grief – a stark contrast to the woman heading advertisement loudly about how "awesome" she was and how they'd "chilled over champagne around the Kuchiki pool once".

Ichigo wasn't sure what to say – or to think. The indestructible Rukia Kuchiki had not been seen or heard from in a week; the media was streaming with image after image of celebrities entering their house to pay their respects, leaving 5 minutes later each. He himself had not yet been, nor would he be joining his fellow A-listers in a sickening attempt to boost their reputation by making out to be close to the prestigious Kuchiki family. Despite not being particularly fond of the young girl, he understood grief: he would not be trespassing while she was in her weakest moment.

Rising from the table, unable to listen to anymore of the depressing discussions, he made his way to the set – his first scene of the day was about to begin filming, and he knew it would be a long one. He could hear the rain whacking against windows and walls as he passed. The morose mood clinging to him felt like he was being drowned by the water, like he was sinking below the surface. The feeling had been growing as the calendar had been turning.

The only thing he could see was those piercing, angry violet eyes.

Ichigo didn't say much that day.

* * *

_One Week Later_

It hadn't stopped raining once.

So when Rukia Kuchiki was the last stood around the hole in the ground, where the coffin holding the body of her dead sister lay, the ridiculous shoes she was wearing were sinking into the ground, the ridiculous black dress , totally unsuited to the weather, was soaked, and her ridiculous hairstyle was ruined by the moody weather. Everything she wore was ridiculous. Her face, covered in make-up, was ridiculous. This entire world was ridiculous.

What the hell was even the point in it? This ridiculous world. What was the point of living at all if you were just gonna end up like her sister, 6 feet away from her?

The beats of their hearts are numbered just as the beats of a Mayfly's wings are.

So what's the point in living for such a short amount of time, if you were just going to die, with the in between filled with pain? Why not skip the hassle, the stress, the disgusting pain that leaves you unable to breath?

Rukia knelt down, and finally let go of the wilting red rose she'd been holding, where it came to rest on her sister's grave. She sighed deeply, and looked up, rain pelting her face, freeing it from the oppressing foundation, eyeliner, mascara, eye shadow, and pushing back her hair. She rubbed her face with her hands, and relished the feeling of not caring for just a moment.

So when she lowered her head, feeling as calm as she could while she was preparing herself to say goodbye to the closest family she had ever – and possibly _would _ever have – she was pretty certain she was imagining things when she a flash of orange. Several blinks of her eyes and shakes of her head later, she came to the conclusion that it was in fact who she thought it was, not 50 feet away from her, crouching in front of a newish grave, which fresh flowers have obviously just been placed. He looked relatively dry – at least compared to her, and his face was in his hands. His left side was facing her, and all she could see of his clothes were his black coat and dark wash jeans. She knew not to disturb him, and was about to leave him while he prayed, when he stood suddenly, and turned, and his eyes laid upon her; their usual power struggle began when she kept his gaze, right up until they met halfway, having walked to the path separating their respective graves, the rain still coming down around them heavily.

It was also at this moment, being as Rukia was in Emilio Pucci flats instead of her usual sky high heels, that Ichigo noticed that his co-star was actually a midget.

He ignored his recognition of this at this moment however; it didn't exactly seem like the time.

"How are you?" his tone was softer than usual, but retained a certain hardness to it, as if you could hear his scowl.

"I'm fine." She narrowed her eyes. "I didn't realise..."

There was a slight pause, the only sound being that of the always present rain slamming on the rocks slabs that served as paving stones below them.

"My mom. She died a while back. It's the anniversary in a couple days, but I won't be here for it, so I thought I'd come see her today. I didn't know today was the funeral."

She shook her head. "It's not your fault. We didn't tell anyone outside of those who needed to know. It's within your rights to visit your mother's grave."

The silence was awkward as they became further drenched.

"You look like you've been crying a lot."

She couldn't help but scoff at how wrong he was. "I haven't yet. I'm waiting for the moment."

Her words were cryptic, but he nodded like he understood. "My mom used to say, whenever I got beat up by friend at a dojo we went to when were little, I could only cry one tear, then I had to stop. She said if I kept crying after that one tear, then it would start raining, cause of the sadness I'd be spreading to everyone else. She said I had to be the strong one for my sisters. The raining thing was a load of bull, but the thing about my sisters... it was like she knew."

She stared at him for a long moment. He scowled back at her.

"What?"

She shook her head. "My sister... she used to say the same thing to me. But I couldn't remember before why she said I had to stop..." Her eyes filled with unshed tears.

"Thank you, Ichigo."

They stood staring at each other as the rain eased, and the sun shone.

* * *

A/N: Whew! Finished I'll update sooner, promiseee! I think I cut it off at the wrong point, it should have been longer, but that last tiny little bit (admittedly stolen from the manga) popped into my head, so I finished it there.

Cya soon

B x


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